Flowers of the Imperial Palace

It was a peculiar scent. On the edge of familiarity, yet novel, and subtle, one of those odors you had to keep taking in in little sniffs before you could place it. It was mealy, warm, like human skin, but sweeter, and fresher, more plant than animal. One of the court poets had once described it as a flower sweating in the heat.

Marakhthanilla found it reminded her of the smell of a woman's cunt. She supposed that was part of the point. The llimhendel flowers had been bred, engineered, for their purpose, and their purpose was to stimulate the dickgirls of the harem. To ensure that they wanted her, constantly, and were ready, waiting to mate with her whenever she visited.

She lay back in the hot pool, letting the scented humidity of the harem settle on the skin of her face and shoulders, exposed above the lapping water. All across her submerged body she felt the tiny ticklish rasping of the fish that were kept here to clean and renew her skin when she bathed. She looked up at the domed glass ceiling, and the rosy glow of an encroaching dawn beyond. Around the edges of the dome and down along the trellises that lined the stone walls, crept the vines that bore the llimhendel. They were all around her, thick walls of planty sinew fringed by deep green leaves and punctuated here and there by the discrete black flowers that were silently pouring out their special intoxicating dew.

She enjoyed these moments, sitting waiting in the pool. She had been away the whole night. Kept awake with politics, or what passed for politics now, courtly business mostly, keeping important people happy, keeping watch on enemies and rivals. Talking, mostly. Definitely no sex. And now finally she had a morning, maybe a whole day, to herself, to reap the fruits of the power she had accumulated so carefully. After all, why trouble herself with the chore of being empress if she never got to indulge?

Her mother had made use of the harem, too, of course. But as far as Marakhthanilla had seen, it had been a fairly perfunctory use. A place to be impregnated, to ensure the succession. It was only under Mara's own reign that it had been expanded to its current size. The central chamber in which she now lay, with the pool that tapped the hot springs, was her own addition. She had ordered it placed at the south end of the previous structure. And then over the course of her reign, as one conquest had followed another and the empire itself had expanded, she had added each of the three new wings that together with the original one now formed the X shape of the building.

Whenever she lay here, waiting, her body gently being scrubbed clean by the fish, she liked to amuse herself by guessing through which of the four archways a dickgirl would first appear. Sometimes she might wait as long as a quarter hour, but often it was much sooner than that. Over her absence the girls would have become restless, driven by the scent of the flowers. They would be lounging, exercising, or grooming themselves further out in one of the four wings, but they would have been checking the central pool frequently, waiting for her to appear. She knew that they did so, because from time to time when she was at work and did not have time for a visit, she would take one of her advisors for a walk in the rooftop garden above, and look down through the dome.

Soon enough, she heard them approaching. From through the archway to the east wing there came a mounting echo, the clatter of shoes on the stone. Many of the girls walked barefoot, most completely naked, but some chose to walk in elegant, high-heeled shoes, and to adorn themselves with various scraps of clothing, short dresses, shawls, bras for some of the bigger-chested girls. She let them dress as they pleased, and gave them all the clothing they asked for. The only requirement was that they be ready to serve her at any moment. And that was easy to achieve. Only very few of the girls ever wore underwear, or leggings. They let their dicks sway free in front of them, kept permanently engorged by the effects of the llimhendel vapor in the close air of the harem.

Next she heard the chattering. Hushed talk, laughter, some shrieks and cries. They fought, Marakhthanilla knew. Not earnestly, but there was bickering, rivalry. They formed friendships, and fell out with each other from time to time. It amused her that they almost always arrived in a group. It flattered her sense of grandeur and luxury to imagine that they did so because none of the girls in a group wanted another to be the first to get there, on her own.

Mara did not especially mind either way. Just occasionally a lone girl had stumbled upon her waiting, at a time when they were not expecting her. And in those moments before the others arrived, Mara had enjoyed some of her most intense, leisurely encounters.

Now, she fancied she could pick out perhaps half a dozen voices and pairs of feet. Then she saw them. A group of girls came into view through the archway of the east wing. It always interested Mara to note how some aspects of the girls' different characters could be read already in their approach to the pool. Most strode in in a tight gaggle, but a few hung back, clung to the stone pillars of the archway, peering in. Perhaps these had already resigned themselves to not being first to mate with her. The other girls might have cowed them, or maybe they preferred to wait, and to savor.

Among those who strode straight in there were differences in their demeanor, too. Some wore their excitement on their faces, with broad, eager smiles, others seemed more self-conscious, had the sly, bright-eyed look that comes from trying hard to suppress a smile. Some simply cried out in delight, clapping their hands and rushing forward.

The two that ran straight to her now were very slim, athletic girls with long dark hair, both clattering hurriedly over the stone floor naked on high-heeled shoes, their dicks bobbing stiffly in front of them. One was pale, and very tall, with a sweet, elfin look. Lyrellie. The other was a little darker, olive-skinned with thick black hair down past her shoulders, was likewise long-limbed and tall, though not quite as strikingly so as the first. Lissi.

Mara made an effort to remember all their names. Her keen memory was an ability that she had perfected for other purposes, for politics, but she deployed it here, too. She saw that it gratified the girls to know that she recognized them. And for herself, it made it easier for her to recall what she learned about them, their likes and their abilities, which other girls were their closest companions, and so on.

Mara smiled and lifted her arms slowly out of the water. Then with a little shiver of her whole body she dismissed the fish that were tending to her skin, and held her arms out at her sides. Lyrellie and Lissi were older girls, had been in the harem for more than ten years now, among the first to have been sent there during Marakhthanilla's reign. They knew what was expected of them and when. Each of them bent to take hold of one of Mara's raised arms, grasped her just under the armpit, and hauled backward to lift her out of the water.

The two girls, though lean and supple, struggled a little, and Mara had to assist them by clambering with her feet up and over the lip of the pool. Here was one aspect of life as an empress that she had not reckoned with, and that irked her more than she cared to admit. Since assuming the throne, she had steadily put on weight.

She had always been full-figured, just like her mother. She had a broad back, broader hips, and a bust that had begun to grow at a very early age, and had kept on growing since. But as a young woman, she had still been athletic. Her upbringing had been firmly in the tradition of the uyraali imperial family. Sport, sport, and more sport. She had ridden horseback almost every day, swum, hiked, climbed, and even fought from time to time. And it had lent her the firm, taut figure that she had been so proud of as a young girl. But the traditions were behind the times. Whereas her ancestors had laid the foundations of the empire from the saddle, her power as empress was exercised from the throne. Audiences, concerts, entertainments, and above all banquets. Always lavish, and always copious.

Since coming to power aged twenty-three, her life had been an extremely peaceful one, and sedentary. Though she often traveled with her armies, and took a detailed interest in the organization of the empire, she never saw battle or hardship herself. When she moved, she rode in carriages, or was borne in litters.

Pregnancies, too, had taken their toll. Her most recent birth, a few months before, had been her fourteenth. Though her responsibilities had come upon her earlier in life than she had expected, she had at least been prepared, and the constant cycle of pregnancy and labor had bothered her less than she had anticipated. It was her duty, and she bore it. And after all, it was the purpose of this place, the harem, that had come to be so dear to her. Like most of the matriarchs of her family, she had a constitution that coped extremely well with pregnancy, seemed even to thrive on it. But still, she had rarely had the time nor the will to recover her figure in the months between giving birth and being impregnated, and now aged thirty-five both her broad backside and her prominent stomach already had the bulky, loose softness of an older woman.

The two girls dragged Marakhthanilla up and out and laid her on the warm stone floor of the chamber, her lower legs still dangling over the lip of the pool into the water. After setting her down, the girls knelt, stretched out on all fours either side of Mara's body, and eagerly buried their faces in her bosom, nuzzling at her nipples with muffled giggles on their lips.

At least she was fortunate enough to have taken most of the extra weight on her chest. She was even quite proud of her big bust. Strapped up into a sturdy bra, she felt it looked very inviting. She liked to dress for formal occasions in long gowns with tight chests and low necklines. It helped take some of the attention away from the plush folds of her stomach. And the harem girls seemed to like it. They liked to slap or squeeze her breasts, sometimes slide their dicks between them. Or suck on them, like Lyrellie and Lissi were doing now.

Mara reached out with each arm, under the girls' bodies, to caress their dicks. She ran her fingers along them, then grasped and gently tugged, stroking her fist slowly up and down, testing their readiness. She felt one of them twitch in her hand, give a little quiver. Setting her thumb at the tip, she felt a tiny slick of moisture, which she rubbed over the underside in slow circles. She looked down at her chest to check which of the girls it was whose dick was already leaking.

"Lissi," Mara called her name softly.

Lissi sprang up eagerly to her knees, a bright-eyed smile on her face. Mara smiled at her in turn and beckoned her forward. She put her hand between Lissi's legs and up round onto her slim behind, pulling her in towards her face. Lissi swung one leg over Mara's head and spread her legs wide to lower herself.

When Mara's pursed lips clasped around the moist tip of Lissi's dick, the girl gave a quiet sigh of relief, and her body shuddered. Mara opened her mouth, sucked and pulled Lissi in. She drew her cheeks tight and swirled her tongue to caress Lissi as she thrust forward, her dick striking the roof of Mara's mouth.

With one hand Mara held Lissi in place while she sucked. With the other she continued to pump slowly on Lyrellie, still nuzzling at her breast. She listened to the girls' faint groans and whimpers of excitement, and let her own arousal begin to rise. It came upon her slowly but surely, like a deep heat rising from between her legs, layered on the simmering excitement that had gathered during her wait in the pool. Mara added her own murmurs of encouragement to the girls' keening, and heard her own voice in her ears, muffled by Lissi's thrusting dick.

Marakhthanilla knew she should not linger sucking on Lissi for too long. The girl was ready. She gave one last powerful suck, drawing Lissi in just to the entrance of her throat, then before a choke could rise from her chest, she pushed Lissi back and disgorged her, gasping.

Lissi scrabbled back eagerly, not even waiting to look for a signal. She swung her long legs over the lip of the pool and slid in, not stopping to remove her shoes. She waded awkwardly round to position herself standing between Mara's knees. The depth of the pool was designed to make it easy to have sex in this position, with the girl standing in the pool and Mara lying at its edge. But Lissi's slightly above-average height, and her heels, made it necessary for her to spread her legs and lower herself a little. Mara too, spread hers, parting her thighs to bare herself.

"Lyrellie, take her place," Mara commanded softly. She tugged on Lyrellie's dick and then guided the girl over to her face as she had done to Lissi.

Lissi's hands clasped to Mara's thighs. Her fingers were tense, and dug into Mara's soft flesh with a slight tremor. As Lyrellie lowered herself into Mara's open mouth, Mara felt Lissi nuzzle at her cunt, then press and slowly ease in. Mara was wet enough that her opening parted easily. It swallowed the full length of Lissi's dick after only two strokes. Lyrellie, too, pushed in. Mara took her a little deeper than she had Lissi, letting the tip nudge past the back of her throat and in. Her body tensed and she waited for an instinctive spasm in her throat to subside, then she breathed in deeply through her nostrils and began a slow constricting suck.

Lissi grunted and gasped, quickly working up to a rapid thrusting. The powerful scent of the llimhendel flowers made rather desperate, inexpert lovers of the girls. That too was part of its purpose, to get the girls' seed into the empress as quickly and as often as possible. Mara's own pleasure had only just begun to stoke when she felt Lissi's hips judder and her dick begin to pump. It didn't matter, there would be another girl to follow her.

Marakhthanilla relaxed, let herself slacken, savoring the hardness of Lyrellie's dick in her throat while she felt Lissi's throb and spurt inside her, pumping out a long, irregular load that began to seep out even before Lissi withdrew.

Lissi slumped forward as her dick softened and slid out. She laid herself on Mara's body for a moment and Mara reached to stroke Lissi's head, running her fingers through the girl's hair. Then with a sigh Lissi rose and shook herself, and sank backward into the pool.

Mara pushed gently up against Lyrellie's hips and the girl rose to her knees, then to her feet, standing over Mara's body. Mara stretched out, lifting her arms above her head and arching her back. She waited for a moment, watching Lyrellie's dick twitching above her. Then with a sly smile, Lyrellie turned and bent to unstrap her shoes. Marakhthanilla saw the girl's full, smooth balls and fancied she could see them squirming, held tight in their sack up against the swelling at the base of the girl's dick.

When Lyrellie slipped into the pool with a delicate splash, Marakhthanilla looked up and saw that more girls had stepped forward and were standing over her. She squinted, making out their faces against the slowly brightening sunlight from the glass dome above.

These were younger girls, newer. Lyrellie and Lissi were commoners, the daughters of merchants from the lower slopes of the city, who had sent them shortly after Mara's coronation, as gifts in hope of advancing their families' interests at court. Many of the newer girls had been acquired instead as the prizes of conquest, or sent to cement the treaties of clientship that Marakhthanilla had arranged with friendly states and tribes at the empire's borders.

"Suria," Mara called one of them by name, "Fetch oil. Cover yourself, and rub well, from your shoulders to your ankles."

The girl nodded, and spun on her heels before retreating. Suria had been the princess of a minor southern tribe from which the empire had begun drawing mercenaries a few years earlier. In a certain sense she was still a princess. Marakhthanilla recalled that the elders of the tribe regarded Suria as having been wedded to the empress. Marakhthanilla had taken care not to disabuse them of the notion.

Suria returned with a thick glass decanter and began dashing the contents over her bare body. Southerners were hardy, and the climate in their lands was cool. Like many of them, Suria was stocky, but she was shapely. She had fine pale skin and thick, deep red hair. As she turned to rub a slick of oil over her back, Marakhthanilla admired the girl's firm, prominent backside with a twinge of envy. It reminded her of her own figure in her youth.

Marakhthanilla groaned and felt a sudden rush of warmth from between her legs as Lyrellie entered her. The girl was slower than Lissi, a little more restrained. She leaned her tall, thin body forward and laid herself out on top of Mara as she drove in. Mara felt her breath quicken in time with Lyrellie's own as their faces met and they kissed.

Mara could feel the tension in Lyrellie's body, and heard the little groans in her throat. She could sense that the girl was trying hard to hold back, to savor, and to master herself. But then Mara twisted her hips and gave a faint clench with the muscles of her cunt and Lyrellie responded with a faint whimper of frustration, and broke. Her lips and tongue began squirming haphazardly across Mara's face, panting and whining as her thrusting suddenly gained in intensity, plunging herself desperately in and out.

Marakhthanilla twisted her head free of Lyrellie's kiss and craned her neck to look up at Suria, now stooping to set the decanter on the floor. Her body glistened with the sparkle of encroaching sunlight, and Mara could see the downy coat of fine vellus hairs on the girl's stomach and her buttocks.

"Suria," Mara called out, her breath quickening, "Prepare to take Lyrellie's place when she is finished."

Lyrellie groaned and arched her head back, her hips trembling.

Mara then turned to the other younger girl still standing at her shoulder, "And Lor, you will assist Suria."

Lor was also a southerner, and pale. But she had long, silky black hair, and her pallor had an olive tinge to it. She was short, and slender, with plump, pointy breasts. Her face had an endearing mousy sweetness to it, with bright brown eyes and a prominent nose.

"My- my Goddess?" Lor stammered in her still heavily accented uyraali.

Marakhthanilla smiled at her reassuringly. "Fuck her," she explained, speaking slowly, "While she fucks me. It will help her to fill me more copiously."

Suria scowled, but there was a trace of a smirk on her lips. The girls were of course bound to obey their empress without question, had been taught to revere her even as the incarnation of a deity, but Marakhthanilla didn't like to force anything on them if they did not find it pleasurable. She was however fairly certain that Suria was one of those few that enjoyed being fucked by another dickgirl. She was also fairly sure that the folk wisdom of the harem matrons was sound. She had learned to sense and judge the volume of seed inside her, and she had the distinct impression that it was indeed more copious if the girl serving her had her asshole filled.

There was a splash of movement from the pool, and Marakhthanilla craned her head upward to watch Lissi rise from her bath and wade forward, a mischievous grin on her face. She had perhaps overheard Marakhthanilla talking to the two younger girls, because once she had swept the wet hair from her face she thrust her hand out of sight between Lyrellie's trembling buttocks. Seconds later, Marakhthanilla felt Lyrellie's dick suddenly thicken inside her, straining against the tightness of her entrance, and then a long warm gush began flowing out and filling her.